


Party of Two

by adrianna_m_scovill



Category: Law & Order: SVU, The Good Fight (TV)
Genre: Birthday Cake, Fluff, M/M, Mild Smut, Post-Coital
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:27:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26576794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianna_m_scovill/pseuds/adrianna_m_scovill
Summary: For Kas's birthday - an attempt at Kneefba fluff
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Brian Kneef
Comments: 1
Kudos: 38





	Party of Two

Barba collapsed back into the mattress with a groan, throwing an arm over his eyes as he tried to catch his breath. He wasn’t as flexible as he used to be, and it wasn’t as easy to stay folded in half for so long. His muscles were trembling with exhaustion and strain, and his body was slick with rapidly-cooling sweat.

He felt Kneef get off the bed but didn’t bother looking. If Kneef wanted him to leave, he was going to have to wait. Barba wasn’t at all confident his legs would support him; he didn’t even dare try to roll over, despite his discomfort.

“You alright?” Kneef asked. He didn’t sound particularly concerned.

“Fine,” Barba answered. He shifted his hips a little in experimentation, gritting his teeth against the sting. 

“I know you can take a pounding,” Kneef said. From him, it was basically a compliment. The hesitation was unlike him, though. “But if I fucked you too hard—”

“I know the safewords,” Barba interrupted, annoyed by the insinuation. “I said I’m fine, I’m just taking a minute.”

The silence stretched out, and then he finally heard Kneef leaving the room, his stockinged feet whispering against the wood floor. Barba sighed, shifting his body with another wince at the twinge in his back. He wasn’t lying; he was fine, or would be in a few minutes. His heart rate was already returning to a normal pace, and so was his breathing. 

Some parts of him would just take a little longer to bounce back.

Kneef walked back into the room and, to Barba’s surprise, sat on the edge of the bed beside him. “Here,” he said, and a moment later a wet cloth—thankfully still warm—landed on Barba’s stomach. Barba grunted and lifted his arm partway to peer beneath. His stomach and chest were streaked with his own cum; it clung in glistening strands to his hair and had begun to creep down his sides toward the towels protecting the bedspread. 

Before Barba could find the energy to reach for the cloth, Kneef snatched it up again and started dabbing at the streaks of semen. Barba’s stomach twitched under the quickly-cooling rag. He watched Kneef—he’d pulled on a clean pair of boxer briefs and was sitting with one leg drawn up onto the bed—clean his stomach and chest, folding in the soiled points of the rag as he went. Then Kneef dabbed gently at the head of Barba’s softened cock, clearing away the few drops still stubbornly clinging to his slit.

“Bend your legs up,” Kneef said.

Barba hesitated only a few seconds; if Kneef wanted to do the dirty work of cleaning him up, Barba wasn’t going to object. He held his legs up with tired arms, bracing himself for both the coldness of the rag and the expected burn of having his abused hole offended by the touch.

He wasn’t prepared for Kneef’s gentleness, though, and he felt himself slowly beginning to relax as the other man carefully cleaned the excess lube away. When he was finished, Barba let his legs slide slowly down. Some of his discomfort had already eased.

“Thanks,” he said.

Kneef regarded him in silence for a moment. “You’re good?” he asked.

_Subtle_ , Barba thought, but he couldn’t complain about Kneef wanting him to hurry up and leave. He’d already shown more consideration than Barba’d had any right to expect. “Yep,” he said, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “I’ll get out of—”

“You want some cake?”

Barba blinked, staring at him. “Excuse me?” he finally asked, wondering if the other man had fucked the ability to think right out of his head. 

Kneef glanced away. He seemed to be without his usual confidence, and it was disarming to see him looking so _human_. Barba knew Kneef was always more amiable and considerate immediately after sex, but this was something different. 

“I’ve got this, um, birthday cake?” Kneef said, gesturing toward the other room. “My secretary had it delivered to the office. I think she was angling to get off early.”

“Maybe she just wanted cake.” Barba was still trying to make sense of the change in Kneef. “Or maybe she was being nice. How long’s she been your assistant?”

“A month or two? Long enough to know I’m an asshole,” Kneef answered with a small smile and cocked eyebrow. “And if she wanted cake, she went home disappointed.” He considered with a brief tilt of his head. “I did send her home early, however.” He got to his feet and left the room without another word, and Barba stared after him. 

Once he was alone, Barba sat up carefully and scooted himself back to lean against the headboard. Sitting wasn’t unbearable, luckily. He glanced around for his clothes, spotting them strewn across the bedroom floor. 

“German chocolate,” Kneef said as he returned carrying a plate with a large piece of cake and two forks. “You could probably use the energy,” he added, waving his free hand for Barba to move over.

Barba did, despite his confusion, sliding to the side and propping a pillow behind himself as Kneef sat beside him and drew his legs onto the bed. “When was your birthday?”

Kneef handed him a fork. “Today.” He glanced over at the alarm clock on the nightstand. “For another three hours and eighteen minutes.”

Barba’s stomach grumbled at the smell of chocolate, and the sight of the _very_ moist-looking cake, but he resisted temptation—for the moment. He looked at Kneef, who was poking at the cake and avoiding his gaze. “Was there a party?”

“Nope. Just the cake.” 

“Forgive me for asking, but isn’t there someone with whom you’d rather be spending—” Barba stopped when he saw Kneef’s jaw clench beneath the beard. He considered for a few seconds before reaching out to spear a forkful of cake. “It looks good,” he said. 

Some of the cake fell off the fork on the way to his mouth, but Barba made only a half-assed attempt to catch it before it landed on his chest. Despite Kneef’s efforts to clean him up, Barba was in dire need of a shower—or better yet, a hot bath. 

He chewed the cake that managed to find his mouth, humming in appreciation. He hadn’t eaten since lunch, and he realized he was _starving_. He looked at Kneef and found the other man staring at the cake crumbs scattered across Barba’s chest. 

“Stay the night and we can have a party, after all,” Kneef said, dragging his gaze up to Barba’s. “I’ll be...gentler,” he offered with a smirk.

“You’re not touching my ass again tonight. And if you’re going to smear chocolate cake all over me like you obviously want, then I need a shower afterward and at least an hour before we start anything else.”

“Deal,” Kneef said, setting his fork on the plate and holding his hand toward Barba to shake.

Barba laughed and slapped the hand aside, grabbing the plate instead. “And I’m eating first.”

Kneef scowled, but it was half-hearted at best. “Fine. As long as you eat...messily.”

Barba rolled his eyes but chuckled. “Only because it’s your birthday,” he allowed, and Kneef’s face split into a grin.


End file.
